Harry Potter and the Risen Lord
by Lord BladeDSF
Summary: Harry snaps at an early age and gains the power and knowledge of the temporarily fallen Dark Lord. What will happen? Where will this lead him? Full summary inside. Evil!Harry. Powerful!Harry. This fic is rated M for a very good reason. Full warnings inside. Will be Harry/OC.


** Disclaimer: Its JKR's not mine.**

** Summary: Early on, Harry snaps. His anger and fury at the Dursleys causes Harry to make a powerful oath, unleashing Harry's powers, and memories of the temporarily fallen Dark Lord. Harry takes his vengeance on his relatives and begins on the long, dark path to becoming the most powerful and feared being to ever grace the face of the earth. Ancient prophecies forgotten since the time angels and demons warred, prophecies lost since the time nephilim walked the earth shall be unearthed, and the Immortal Ones shall be awakened. All shall bow before The Risen Lord.**

**Warnings: This story will be rated M for very good reasons. This story will contain lemons, VERY graphic violence, rape, torture, incest, vicious murders, obscene language, evil thoughts and actions, plenty of gore, and will also contain many ideals that many fanfiction readers and authors are entirely against. Read at your own risk. Only the strongest of wills will be able to resist the corruption. The bravest of souls will welcome it, and rejoice in the power it brings.**

** Quick A/N: This shall be an evil Harry story. I am writing this because nearly all the 'supposedly' 'Dark Harry' fics are surprisingly 'light' and nowhere near truly dark. Again, nearly all of those fics are slash and M!Preg stories, which I find entirely disgusting and a complete waste of time and effort to read, much less write. The only Evil Harry fic that I have found so far on this site, ficwad, , or even was the Denarian Lord series, which I highly recommend as 1 of my top favorites. Therefore, I have sought to write a fic of my own for this category. Rest assured my readers, this will not be a dark fic where Harry is just on the other side of the war and the pureblood agenda is romanticized, while the 'Light' side is realigned to be greatly unrealistic. I know my other fic, which I have not abandoned will be the ultimate Godly, Light Harry fic (well, that's my goal anyways) this fic shall be the opposite extreme. So travel with me as we each discover our anger and hate at an unfair world, where we must forcefully take each and every step into our dark, cruel world. Let us satisfy our most primal, carnal, and base desires and sate our bloodlust together as we climb our way atop the bodies of the sheep of the world. Together, let us make our journey to force the world to its knees, as it bows to the newly worshipped god, The Risen Lord! Carpe Diem!**

**Harry Potter and the Risen Lord**

**Chapter 1: Birth Of A New Darkness**

** Chapter Warnings: Graphic violence, torture, child abuse. If you can't handle it, move on.**

He hated them! Most would think that at the tender age of only six years, he would be entirely too young to understand his feelings of rage and hatred, and would be utterly traumatized at these feelings being directed at his last living relatives. They would be wrong.

For as long as he could remember, Harry Potter had suffered at the hands of his relatives. His uncle Vernon was about as large as a man could get without his own girth crushing him to death. He had multiple chins that wobbled over his nonexistent neck, normally covered in slobber during his many rages at Harry. Uncle Vernon was a vastly unpleasant man, and loved to lay the blame of absolutely everything that didn't immediately go his way on his nephew. Honestly, how did his Uncle expect Harry to blow the engine to the car on one of the many family trips, during which, of course, Harry had been left to the care of the batty old Mrs. Figg. But nothing ever worked to convince his Uncle that Harry was not the cause of all his problems. The moment the Dursleys arrived back at Privet Drive, Uncle Vernon had immediately turned on Harry, already purple in the face and began to curse at Harry for his freakishness. Harry had suffered multiple broken bones and a concussion that night. Unbeknownst to Harry, if not for the magic he still didn't know he possessed, he would have died from his many internal injuries. It was the sixth such severe beating.

Harry had long given up on begging forgiveness for all the imagined slights against his Uncle, and his tears had long dried up. It would only make things worse. Besides, no matter how much damage was done to his miniscule, malnourished body, Harry would somehow be fully healed by morning. Harry guessed that the Dursleys should have been extremely grateful for his seemingly supernatural healing abilities, as they had never once had to take Harry to the hospital for treatment or examinations.

Harry's cousin Dudley was no longer much of an issue. Like his father, Dudley loved beating on Harry and blaming everything he broke or messed up on him, but Harry was used to his Uncle Vernon laying the blame on him either way, and the waddling pig could only very rarely catch Harry off guard enough to catch him and begin his favorite game of punch the Freak.

Harry remembered his very first day of primary. He was so happy to finally be able to start learning. Harry was exceptionally intelligent, and seemed to understand nearly everything at first glance, and he had perfect recall, even when it came to very small details he had missed at first glance.

Harry sat proudly as his teacher went through roll call, awaiting his name so that he could announce his presence. Strangely, the teacher never called out 'Freak'. Even stranger, the teacher had called out the name of every other student in the class, but kept calling out for 'Harry Potter' and received no answer. It was a very embarrassing day for the Dursleys. The teacher had asked him his name and of course, Harry had told her his name was either Freak or Boy. The teacher was appalled and her face paled in horror while Harry's classmates laughed at him. Harry put his head down. He refused to allow anyone to see how they affected him so. Within half an hour, Harry's teacher had called in a substitute, dragged Harry in front of the school nurse, the counselor, and the Headmaster. After questioning and examining him, they had immediately called in the bobbies, along with the Dursleys.

Harry had no clue how the Dursleys had gotten themselves out of that situation. The next day, everyone involved except the Dursleys and Harry's classmates had seemed to forget the entire incident. It was very weird, and certainly didn't add up in Harry's prodigious mind. Either way, Harry learned very quickly that his hopes of making his aunt and uncle proud of him with his academic success were for naught. Harry never could perceive the reasons for his own foolish hopes.

'_Why does Fate conspire to torture me?' _Harry wondered as his uncle beat him within an inch of his life that night after his aunt and uncle returned home. His uncle accused him of being an ungrateful freak, accused him of not being respectful towards his betters, accused him of purposely trying to get his aunt and uncle locked behind bars when they had been nothing but good to him. His uncle accused Harry of being ungrateful for the meager scraps and being allowed to serve the Dursleys out of the goodness of their merciful hearts. Finally Harry's uncle said one thing that he had held his tongue on for years, never daring to say. "You selfish, ungrateful, spiteful, freakish child of a whore!" Harry's uncle raged as Harry felt his ribcage crushed beneath his uncle's foot. "I regret ever taking you in, no matter how much it protects my family! If it wasn't for you, we'd be in no danger! You should have died with your worthless dogs of freak parents boy! At least they knew when they weren't wanted and stayed away!"

That was the first night that Harry felt a deep fury growing in him. A dark part of himself that burned in rage and longed to lash out. Harry couldn't understand his own feelings, but he felt the primal animal within him roaring towards the edge of the abyss of Harry's heart, trying with all it's might to climb out and reap vengeance on those who had dared to spurn him, to strike him, to hurt him. For the first time, Harry understood hate; even as he understood the perfect love his parents had once given him. Unbeknownst to Harry, he understood that which so many throughout the ages had sought wisdom of, and that perfect balance of love and hate and fury would lead him to becoming one of the most powerful and feared beings to ever grace the face of the earth. They would pay. They would all pay!

Even as he swore his Oath, Harry felt a bright surge of energy rise up within his chest and merge with a fierce darkness located behind his forehead. Harry had never noticed either before. The first being a massive ball of bright energy, brighter than the largest sun gone supernova. It cackled with glorious strength, streams of white power lashed out from it, filling Harry with unknown strength. The other, a large ball of dark energy. Its purple aura was filled with hate and anger, with the memories of so many dark deeds. Harry knew at once that it was a foreign power that had long been held in check by the other, only now unleashed by Harry's Oath. It too cackled with power, and for the first time in his life, Harry felt the dark, decayed stench of that power fill him as it also sent streams of power towards the other ball of energy. Harry had no way of knowing that he was now lying comatose as he watching the merging of two cores, of his own core and the soul fragment that held the entire core that Tom Riddle once possessed. Harry watched in wonder as the two balls of energy combined and immediately imploded before spreading out to fill Harry's whole being.

In his mind's eye, Harry could see that his core had spread throughout his entire body, healing him, and undoing so many years of malnourishment. In mere minutes his body lengthened and stretched, his muscles grew taught and his senses sharpened far beyond the ability of any human, werewolf, or even the most ancient of vampires. Harry gained the power and abilities that Lord Voldemort had possessed at the height of his powers, with none of the drawbacks. The effects of every ritual, dark, blood, or otherwise that Tom Riddle could get his hands on, with none of the costs. Harry's body gained mass and strength and extreme durability while the speed and clarity of his already eidetic memory and mind increased a thousand-fold. Harry's reflexes sharpened and greatly increased as the speed and efficiency of his nervous system reached godly proportions. Harry's bones strengthened as if fortified by mythril and quicksilver both. Harry's endurance and stamina heightened greatly and his physical and magical resistances both multiplied exponentially, ten times beyond that of the legendary Merlin. In essence, with the combination of Harry's core and Tom Riddle's core, a new core of glorious strength and power was born, bringing to bear the gifts and abilities of the perfect being, the perfect state which Tom Riddle had long sought after. And he was angry.

~TRL~

Harry awoke in his cupboard. He didn't know how long he had been out, but at the moment Harry couldn't have cared any less. Harry was through. His eyes glowed with an emerald fire, his pupils burning with flecks of golden power as Harry stood and glared at the door of his cupboard, which was promptly blasted to pieces, outwards toward his astonished relatives.

"I've had enough of each of you," the deathly cool voice of Harry rasped, chilling the air around him as he strode smoothly forward.

The Dursleys shrank back from the approaching figure of their nephew, not understanding how Harry's appearance could have changed so much, so quickly. They barely recognized him. How did he become this… demon?

As for Harry, he knew only the flames of rage burning in his soul, causing his eyes to blaze with a fierce emerald fire, paralyzing his relatives with fear at the site. They had caused him far too much pain over the years! They had lied to him about who he was and who his parents were! Harry knew now though, and nothing could stop him from taking his rightful place in the world.

Eyeing his relatives, Harry smirked viciously at his mammothly rotund cousin's pathetically feeble attempt to hide beyond his twig-like mother.

"Stop Freak! This is my house, and I'll not have any of your unnaturalness under my roof!" roared Uncle Vernon, finally seeming to have found his voice.

Harry's uncle's courage didn't last long. Harry flicked his wrist and flung his uncle into the hard brick wall beside the fireplace, where he hung suspended a foot in the air. A second later, Harry appeared next to his uncle, levitating to where Vernon could feel Harry's hot breath on his neck, and hear his deadly whisper.

"Dear, dear Uncle Vernon, this may be your house, but today you shall pay for your crimes against me. You lied to me, beat me, and used me like a slave. Your own nephew! You vile, disgusting, worthless pig of a man! Have you no shame in yourself!" Harry raged.

"You are slime, Vernon Dursley. You are selfish, brutish, and pathetically insecure! You strive to be the perfect 'normal' family? How the bloody blue fuck could you be normal when you would treat an innocent, harmless child the way you have! Much less your own flesh and blood." Again Harry leaned forward and spoke in a cool, deadly whisper. "Today, dear Uncle, you shall know my suffering. You shall know my pain. You will whimper and beg, you shall plead for mercy. And then, you shall die by my hand. Know this Vernon Dursley, before I am through with you and your family, you will each suffer for your crimes, and you will each be condemned."

The sudden overbearing stench told Harry that his uncle had gotten the message crystal clear. Vernon turning pale as a ghost and struggling uselessly against invisible bonds only cemented the fact. But he wouldn't escape thought Harry. None of them would.

Harry turned to his aunt, who shrieked at him and attempted to smash Harry's head in with a skillet. Before she could blink, Harry blasted her through the room backwards, her body smashing against the dining table. Harry was rewarded with the satisfying sound of bones shattering against the corner of the unforgiving oak. He smirked. Oh how he longed to hear the satisfying crunch of bones that weren't his breaking. Oh yes, he would make sure to snap every bone in their useless bodies as punishment for his suffering! It wouldn't be enough, but it would certainly be a glorious start to his revenge on this trash he once called family.

A squeal and wild shuffling of feet alerted Harry to the attempted flight by his cousin, who very quickly found himself on his hands and knees, losing his stomach even as chains sprung from the floor and bound his cousin's legs, ankles, neck, and wrists tightly in place. The sound and foul odor of sizzling flesh from where the chains touched his cousin's bare skin brought an eerie grin to Harry's face. Aunt Petunia began shrieking over the sound of her offspring's screams of agony.

"No! Not my Diddykins!" She shrieked. Her bat-like, screechy voice was beginning to hurt Harry's ears. "Leave him alone you monster! Demon! I knew you'd be just the same! We should have left you to die in a ditch you spawn of demons!"

With that, Harry silenced her and was instantly in front of her with a razor sharp fingernail pressing lightly into her jugular, just hard enough to pierce the flesh and draw blood. "Oh no, dear Aunt. We have only just begun," he whispered softly as his lips grazed her ear.

Chills ran down Petunia's spine at his deathly soft voice. She whimpered at her son's screams and watched tears of pain roll freely down his beat red face.

"Tell me, Auntie dear," Harry breathed, "Do you enjoy watching your that sack of dung you call a son in pain? I promise you, it is… excruciating!" Harry grinned evilly and licked his lips on the last word, saying it softly as if he was making love to her ear.

Harry laughed at his aunt's insane screams of fury.

"You monster! Filth! Child of a whore! How could we have ever thought you'd be any different than that self righteous bitch!"

A resounding slap silenced her and smashed her body to the floor. Looking up, she expected to see fury in the eyes of her nephew, but only saw a cool, calm stare. For some reason, this terrified her more.

"Before this night is over, Petunia, you shall know the price of your jealousy. I will be sure to kill you last, and you shall suffer endlessly for daring to speak a word against my mother," Harry nearly snarled.

"No! Please! Spare me! I'll do anything!"

"Anything? Would you even turn against your son and husband as you have me?"

"Yes! Anything! Please don't hurt me!"

Harry snarled and smashed his fist into her face. He felt the bones of her nose and jaw shatter under the force and watched her crumple. His aunt lie there moaning in pain, blood oozing out of her mouth and nose in heavy drops. Lying near her head was the tip of her tongue that Harry's punch had forced her to bite off.

"Now we can't have that, can we?" Harry asked himself as he waved his hand, healing her. He didn't want her to pass out from blood loss… the fun had just begun!

Harry spit on her. "Selfish whore! You would give up even your own son to save your skin? You disgust me!" With that he kicked her in the stomach, flinging her body over to her son's.

Harry watched his relatives moan in agony. He felt the rush of power and gloried in the control he had of their useless lives. There was more harm in allowing such filth to continue breathing then ridding the world of a tiny bit of its waste. How he longed to kill them, but Harry had changed his mind.

Dudley, of course, would die tonight. Painfully. But death was far too merciful and quick to allow his aunt and uncle its release. He wanted them to suffer.

Harry caught his uncle's eye and grinned maniacally. "Oh dear uncle, I have delightful news! You and aunt Petunia are going to survive this night! I have so much planned for you!"

Vernon's eyes went wider, as if already knowing that his only chance of mercy had ended.

"Imperio!" Harry began his work.

**Author's Notes:**

**Before I am asked, let me make this very clear. Harry is not possessed by Voldemort's horcrux, and it is still latched to Harry. In no way is the horcrux influencing Harry's thoughts, emotions, choices, or actions in any way. I hate when authors use this to excuse Harry's actions and bring him back to the 'Light' later on in the story after proclaiming their story to be a 'Dark' fic, and I have absolutely no intention of this. Harry will never change sides in the war and will continue to travel down a very dark, evil path.**

**And for those who ask about Riddle's 'entire core' being said during the merging… Riddle has 7 horcruxes, and even though each time he split his soul, each horcrux contained a fractionally smaller part of his soul. A being's magical core doesn't work that way. A magical core is tied to the entirety of the soul, split or not, and continuously replenishes itself. Therefore, over time, each horcrux would replenish the magical energy from the soul and each would contain the full magical power of the magical core the wizard possesses. Thankfully, recombining the horcruxes with the wizard would only give a temporary boost in power and likely kill the wizard from the powerful burst in energy, or dark lords from long past would've done it just for the gain in power.**

**As for the abilities from the rituals… blood and soul rituals effect the magical core and soul of the magical being, altering both. Obviously, this means that each horcrux would contain the altercations. Since the cost for each ritual is paid by either the soul or body of the magical being performing them, Harry gets a free pass on what he has gained.**

**I know I ended this chapter short, but I wanted to see what my readers think will happen next. What do you each believe _should _happen next? I'm looking forward to reading many reviews whilst I finish off chapter 14 of Heir of Magic. Either way, I already have a pretty good idea what I intend to do with the Dursley's, but I would love to hear some creative ideas that may be better than my own.**


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